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another woman. “See you Friday morning. And get the jet, Jeremy. Alethea will love it,” she said and hung up.
    She should have wished him good luck, but the words had caught in her throat. Rolling onto her side, she hugged a pillow to her chest and fought back a confusing swirl of emotions.
     
    Alethea Niarchos stepped out of the limo Jeremy Kater had sent for her and onto the tarmac of the Tenin Republic’s private government airfield. The heat rising off the runway made Alethea momentarily wish she’d waited within the vehicle’s cooled interior, but patience had never been one of her virtues. She’d agreed to meet Jeremy partly because working with a foreign government would take her career to a whole new level, and partly because his involvement here intrigued her. On paper, it was a parliamentary democratic country, but in practice it was essentially a dictatorship. Prime Minister Akia Alvo had started his reign as a hero, being voted in after a government coup fifteen years earlier. Some said that the power had gone to his head. He’d filled his cabinet with those loyal to him, and although both he and his loyalists had been reelected, the press had cried foul on the process before he’d silenced them internally and banned foreign press.
    The Jeremy she’d known since early high school would never have put himself or his skills on the market so publicly. Revealing himself would likely prove as dangerous for him as it was obviously financially lucrative.
    What are you really doing here, Jeremy?
    If money was all he sought, he could have found that merely by extending his association with Corisi Enterprises. His work in Najriad for the royal family had given him international recognition that he could have parlayed into any number of big contracts—and for a hefty fee. Why Tenin? Why get involved in a teetering government?
    The answer came to her while she waited for the hatch door of the jet to open. Because money is no object when one’s survival is on the line. A government in crisis is as rich as it is volatile.
    We could get killed here.
    Or make a fast fortune.
    Both possibilities were equally exciting. Lately she’d found the routine of what she did somewhat depressing. If she had to sit in on one more corporate-performance appraisal meeting where they focused more on damage control than prevention, she’d gnaw off her manicured nails. Eventually they would sell themselves on the importance of tightened security without giving her a tedious overview of their company first. More than once she’d been tempted to stab a CEO with one of her stilettos just to see if she could—and then make it out of the building alive.
    Kill me, just don’t bore me.
    Thanks to her recent affiliation with Dominic Corisi, the challenge of finding new jobs had disappeared—along with any enjoyment she found in testing building security systems. She had more potential clients than she had time to work with, but how much fun is breaking into a building if you’re asked to?
    The hatch of the jet opened, and it took Alethea a moment to recognize Jeremy. Where was the pasty white man who had looked exactly like what he’d been: a computer geek who lived in his mother’s basement? His slightly rounded cheeks were now cut in strong lines, accenting his sharp blue eyes. His charcoal pinstriped Alexander Amosu suit was tailor-made to his new muscular frame. As he stopped to talk to the pilot before descending the stairs, Alethea’s jaw dropped in surprise. The modern cut of his thick brown hair was short, but edgy. It spoke of youthful power. Move over, Dad, your son is taking over the company.
    Not that Jeremy necessarily had a company—or even a father, for that matter.
    Honestly, Alethea had no idea what he had. She’d never paid much attention to his personal life. He’d always been her hacker friend —a reliable source of information one couldn’t obtain legally.
    She shook her head in wonder. People don’t change